Sundered Souls
by Alara
Summary: Keisha and Darian have a much...ah, _closer_ relationship than her parents think they do. What happens when they find out? How _do_ they find out? And what does it mean for K&D?
1. Still Waters

Sundered Souls

This is gong to be a Keisha/Darian fic, because the last "new" trilogy the indomitable ML finished was the Owl Trilogy... and because I like the characters. (But then, they're ML's characters--what's not to like?)

Now, in Owlknight, it is mentioned that Keisha shares Darian's bed, but that her parents are, of course, clueless (as parents often are) and think Darian and Keisha to be no more than friends. Well, this fic is about "what happens when..." Keisha's parents find out. Might be little angsty, may be a lot angsty, haven't decided yet. Or, rather, the characters haven't decided for me yet. Will definitely be romance, just because I think a good dollop of sweet never did anyone except for diabetics harm?

So far as timeline goes, I'm not quite sure where it would fall... I think maybe either just prior to or just after Owlknight, or in a slightly different altiverse... read, and you tell me which it is. : ) 

Please, as this is the first fic I've posted on this site, review! Constructive criticism is welcome, so are suggestions--however, nasty flames sent just to be mean I take offense to. I _would_, of course, prefer that criticisms are phrased in a more politic way than, "Your fic sucks/I hate your fic/You're a terrible writer, get off the Internet, please!" Not that I've received emails like these, but I'd rather not ever get them. : ) But if you feel mean-ness is necessary, please have a reason behind it so that I may improve and tailor my writing accordingly, if I (or a lot of other people) agree with you. Thanks!

I've lent my Owl Trilogy out to a friend--could someone email me with Keisha's parents' names? For now I'll put in Mr/Mrs Alder where appropriate, later I'll replace them...

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Still Waters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keisha Alder rolled over in the early morning light and stretched languorously. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and she uttered a soft squeak of surprise. "Darian," she said softly, turning herself over to face her love and lover, "I thought you were asleep!"

"What, and miss the wonderful view of you sleeping in my arms? Never." The Tayledras mage said, smiling down into her eyes.

Sappy-sounding though his words were, they touched Keisha's heart, as she knew he'd meant them sincerely. "Oh come now," she scoffed. "Me in the morning, half-aware and not awake, and rumpled from crawling out of bed is _not_ a pretty sight."

He paused for a split second before answering smoothly, "Yes, but you are neither half-aware, nor half-awake, nor rumpled when you're still asleep. You're oblivious instead." He finished teasingly.

"Oh, that's _so_ much better." She replied with a laugh and a kiss, and clambered out of their bed. Ten minutes later, they were taking seats at the communal dining hall in k'Valdemar Vale, companionably discussing their respective plans for the day.

"Well, I have a final lesson with Firesong before he and Silverfox leave on their--what did they call it?--'retreat from us helpless people.' "

"Helpless?" Keisha made the word a question.

"Yes, helpless... according to that pair, the humans of this Vale will simply fall apart without their 'guiding and steadying influence,' " Darian laughed. "Honestly, I'm glad for them, that they're getting a chance to get away and be alone together without interruptions... Poor Silverfox has been away from their _ekele _six nights out of seven, dealing with 'various emotional traumas' that decided to strike many different people, all on the same week, according to him."

"Poor Silverfox?" Keisha countered. "How about poor Firesong? You know how much of a--a _cooperihawk_ he is! Those six nights without Silverfox had to have been--hmm--frustrating for him!" Keisha referred to the prolifigate mating habits of that breed of bird, which trait Firesong admittedly shared.

"Well, after that, I'm discussing new grazing-ground boundaries with Lord Breon and Tyrsell, and then I'm off with Kuari, hunting. He needs the exercise; we haven't been out of the Vale in a while. What's on your agenda today?"

"Village healing." Keisha replied, slightly sourly. "They really don't need me so much as my medicines and one of the more competent apprentices, but Josin cut his leg rather nastily last week, and I'd like to make _sure _that someone saw he followed my instructions to prevent infection, and of course Mother will have a fit if I don't at least stop by. Honestly, she and my father are convinced that if they do not see me for a few days in a row, I must have died amongst 'those strange Hawkbrothers' and no one noticed or saw fit to tell them!"

Darian smiled sympathetically. Keisha's parents were rather overprotective, and tended to view both of their daughters as being no better off than helpless five-year-olds, despite the fact that one was a more-than-competent and independent Healer, and the other was a Herald of Valdemar. "Ah, _ke'chara_, parents always see their children as they were when they were five."

"Your parents didn't--they took you out with them on the traplines until they disappeared." Keisha pointed out/

"Yes, but they took me with them when I was five, also, so... Well, I suppose I got rather lucky with my parents. They allowed me to grow up, and noticed when I made steps in that direction."

"And I am grown, and have been for a few years, and my parents _still_ haven't noticed."

"Try showing them." Darian suggested. "Have your mother sit in on one of your Healing sessions. Perhaps seeing it rather than hearing about it will make them believe you've become an adult."

"Perhaps," Keisha agreed glumly. "But I won't hold my breath."

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 1

~~~~~~~~~

Yes, I know, not much action--it will get moving in the next section, I promise!

--Alara


	2. Rising Rivers

Sundered Souls

Hmm… I can't remember… can Keisha mindspeak—ie, to the dyheli and gryphons? I simply can't remember. It's not really essential to the plotline, but it'd be nice to know… : ) 

Things get moving a bit, here…

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Rising Rivers

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the moment Keisha entered Errold's Grove, she could tell it would be a long day: not one, but _three _of the villagers came running up to her the second they saw her, abandoning work in the fields. She noticed that some of them moved awkwardly, as though moving too quickly or in a certain way would—not exactly _pain _them, or they wouldn't be on their feet, but… Seeing the looks of consternation on their faces, she had to wonder: What's been going on? _It's only been about a week since I've been here last! _

Quickly, she thanked the _dyheli _(named Lintar) who had provided her transportation to the village, grabbed her bags, and slid off. Jogging a bit to meet the villagers more rapidly, she had no sooner opened her mouth to ask, "What's wrong?" than she found out. At great volume, the people of Errold's Grove began babbling at her about some rash that was going around, and nothing they'd tried worked, and could she _please_ do something about it soon because it itched abominably and they simply couldn't _stand_ it anymore, and—

"Stop! Stop!" Keisha cried, trying mightily to not laugh in their faces. "Let me get to my workshop, and bring me the people who are the worst affected. Do you know what's causing it?"

A chorus of "no"s answered her, and she had to shout again to stop them from continuing with a list of all of the conjectured causes. 

Five minutes later, she was safely ensconced in her workshop with the supposed worst patient: her mother, Sidonie. Ayver, her father, hovered in the vicinity of the doorway, mostly unscathed by the unusual rash. _'Unusual' isn't even the word… _Keisha thought, examining her mother's arms, which were covered in splotches. _I haven't even heard of anything like this before…_

__The rash looked like starburst-shaped splotches, a nasty reddish-purple in the center, spreading into a vibrant green that faded into dull yellow at the edges. _If everyone else didn't have this, too, I'd say it was a bruise from a crushing blow._ Keisha thought, but kept the notion to herself. Her mother wouldn't take kindly to the idea that she'd been careless with her health. Well, down to business.

"When did this—rash—first appear?" Keisha asked, taking out a wax tablet and stylus to make temporary notes on. Later, she'd write them down on something less transitory. 

"At Madra Chandler's christening party for her newest child, three days ago." Sidonie said positively. Keisha glanced at Ayver, who nodded in confirmation. 

"Yes, Keisha, no one else had anything remotely like this before then." He confirmed, his tenor voice easily carrying across the small room. 

"But she had nothing unusual to eat or drink at it," her mother put in, anticipating her next query.

"Hmm…" Keisha tapped the stylus against her chin, a habit she'd picked up from Darian. "Anyone new in town?"

"Besides new little Merrie Chandler, no." Her mother said. "Please Keisha, can you do something about this abominable itching? That's what you're a Healer for, isn't it?" Her tone held faint disapproval that her daughter had not tended to her discomfort before asking questions.

Stung, inwardly Keisha recoiled. "Well, in order to treat it effectively I have to know the rash's origins. Otherwise, anything I might do could make it worse."

"Oh." Her mother didn't seem very mollified by her explanation. She sighed, "Well, what else do you need to know?"

"How did the rash first look? Like it does now? Or did it develop into this? And how long did it take? Has anyone felt ill or out of sorts before the rash appeared?" Keisha flung the questions at her mother, rapid-fire, hoping to get a brief respite from her mother's faintly damning censure while she gathered some herbs and unguents that could possibly help, with the assistance of some willing volunteers. 

As she gathered various plant clippings, both fresh and dried, and removed some jars filled with various waxy substances from the shelves lining the walls, Sidonie and Ayver conferred. Finally, just when Keisha was flipping through the Healers' handbook (that she finally completely understood!), in hopes of finding _something _useful, they replied to her questions. 

"Well, near's I can remember, it looked like this, maybe a little redder and less green and yellow when it first started. It just showed up overnight the morning after Merrie's christening." Her mother stated, brow furrowed with thought.

"It faded a bit this morning; before it stayed the same for two days." Her father interjected helpfully.

"I felt fine before the celebration, too. I do now, 'cept for the itching." Sidonie said pointedly. 

"All right, I get the point!" Keisha said. "Here. Try some aloe and jasmine lotion, maybe it'll help. I don't think it will cause harm."

Her mother froze just before she slathered her arm with the pale green cream.

"_'Maybe'_? You _'don't think'_ it'll hurt?" she repeated, disbelief coloring her voice. "Keisha, I really think you oughtn't be with those wild Hawkbrothers so much. They've turned you strange, and unsure of yourself."

Startled by the very sudden change of subject, Keisha blinked in for a moment before responding. "Mother, I would be just as unsure with something like this if Hawkbrothers never existed!" She exclaimed in surprise. "This is something new to me; I'm not going to blithely prescribe some remedy at random that might make things worse! The Hawkbrothers have been nothing but good for me, I thought you knew that by now!" 

"Well, maybe we've changed our minds. Right, Ayver?" Sidonie enlisted her husband's support. "We've been talking about this—about you—for some time now, and" Keisha's heart tightened in her chest for a moment; she didn't know why—"we've decided that it's best if you aren't with them quite as much. Besides, they've got Healers a-plenty. We only have you, and only once or twice a week at that. It's unfair to the village."

"What?" Keisha all but yelled. "You can't _do_ that! I'm grown, Mother, Father, in case you haven't noticed! I have my own life!"

"And does having your own life mean that you ignore your duties?" Her father replied.

"What?" Keisha shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, there's your duty to the family—" her mother began. Keisha groaned in dismay: would she never stop?

"Mother, I know that you seem to have the notion that I have to get married and raise children to continue the family, but please! Three of your sons have already done that—isn't that enough?"

"No." Ayver said flatly, ending that line of argument. "And then besides that there's your duty to this village as a Healer and as a child from the village—"

"_You _are presuming to tell me about _my duty as a Healer?" _Keisha was outraged beyond yelling. "What in the Name of the Goddess are you talking about?"

"For one, your worship of that—that barbarians' goddess. You don't come to worship with us, your family anymore. That's not how you were raised. " Her father said. "And then there's the fact that you're always abandoning us—abandoning the village—to whatever ailments or accidents might befall us, leaving us to fend on our own until _you _feel like coming back."

That thought gave Keisha serious pause: _had_ she been neglecting the village for her own, selfish ends? Sidonie's next statement didn't help.

"What if this rash had been deadly? We would have all been gone by the time you got back!"She said, and that sealed Keisha's resolve. 

She _had _to stay here, at least for a time, to calm the villagers down and decide what to do, to find if she truly had been as mindless of her duties as she parents claimed. 

"All right," she said, cutting off her father in another tirade. "I'll come back to-morrow and stay for a week. After then, I'll decide what my duties are, to here and to the Vale," _and to Darian,_ she added silently, "and figure out how best to balance them. Satisfied?" 

A grudging acceptance fought its way from her parents' lips, and the tension in Keisha's shoulders relaxed, at least temporarily. She picked up the discarded jar of lotion. "Now," she said brightly, forcing a smile, "let's try _this _and see if it helps…"

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 2

~~~~~~~~~

Please, review! I'd greatly appreciate it!

--Alara


	3. Waterfalls...

I'll ask again, because I think I may actually use this in the story—did ML ever say in the Darian Trilogy that Keisha could o

I'll ask again, because I think I may actually use this in the story—_did_ ML ever say in the Darian Trilogy that Keisha could or could not MindSpeak with dyheli or gryphons or even Darian? If the Great Author Herself never said specifically one way or the other, I can assume, then. : )

Enjoy the bit! A bit fluffy, but there are subtle points that will be drawn in later, I promise.

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: Waterfalls…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late that afternoon, Keisha rode into k'Valdemar Vale, quite demoralized and rather depressed. The argument with her parents, their edict inclusive, had unfortunately been her day's high point. A multiple-person emergency involving a spooked horse with a plow still attached had tied up several hours' worth of combined magical and nonmagical Healing. For the most part, she tried to balance her time in healing between magical means and non-, firstly because the former exhausted her if she wasn't careful, secondly because she _had_ to keep in practice with the latter—what if she had to teach someone? Lastly, she _never _wanted to be caught needing magic and not having any 'stored,' or worse, be bereft of her Healing powers altogether, even temporarily, and find, too late, that she'd become dependent on them. 

However, so many people were involved in the accident that just slightly healing each would have tired her; three were in danger of immediate dangerous infection, loss of limbs, or coma, and Keisha spent the remaining dregs of her energy in making certain _they _were safely out of danger. She left them in the charge of the village would-be herbalist/midwife who took care of the minor scrapes and cuts when Keisha was not there. She felt that she could safely leave overnight; no-one was in danger of death now…

…_And,_ Keisha admitted silently to herself, _I need the night's respite before I spend an entire _week _here…_

She was abruptly jolted out of her thoughts when Lintar stopped and rather pointedly gave her a _look_ over his shoulder. She took the hint and quickly slid off of his bony back, scooping her nearly empty bags from the saddlepad as she did so. She blinked once, and suddenly a _hertasi_ was removing what little tack there was from Lintar, efficiently carrying it off into the twilit dim darkness of the Vale.

All around her, deep purple and green shadows, so thick they seemed to be tangible enough to wrap herself in, reached out to her as she stood on the sandy path. Unexpectedly, she was infused with a sense of 'belongingness' and 'home'. The bitterness in the back of her throat was the thought that she would be forced to leave this marvel tomorrow, not to return for a week…

Which meant not seeing Darian for a week, or any other of the Tayledras, she realized with a start. Due to the day's excitement, she had not yet had time to mull over every consequence of her decision to give in to her parents and stay in Errold's Grove for an entire week. This was one she'd not anticipated. _Was that their intention all along, I wonder…_ Keisha thought as she broodingly entered the ground-level _ekele _she shared with Darian. The slight disarray clued her in to the fact that he had been here before her, and not too long ago, either: she could almost taste his scent on the air…

"Hello, _ke'chara_, when did you get back?" Darian's voice murmured low in her ear.

Startled, she shrieked aloud, turning to mock-punch him. "Would you _please_ make some noise?" She laughed, and then sobered as her melancholy mood took over and reminded her that she wouldn't have this for a week, either.

"What's wrong, Keisha?" Darian asked, sensing her abrupt moodchange. His voice grew thick with concern. "Did something happen at Errold's Grove? Is there any way I can help?"

"Could you get me a new set of parents?" Keisha asked, a bit more sincerely and plaintively than she'd intended. The stresses of the day caught up with her abruptly, and she buried her face in his shirt as hot, harsh tears trickled down her face. 

"Ohhhh, love," Darian said on a sigh as he cradled her in his arms. "Come, tell me what's gone so wrong."

Beginning on a sigh of her own, Keisha regained enough control to relate the day's busy events to him and finished, irrelevantly, "And I _still_ don't know where that rash came from." This final reminder of something else she'd not done right that day set her off into tears again. Finally they ceased. Keisha wiped her red-rimmed eyes and sniffled, "I don't know what's wrong with me, Darian. I can't seem to do anything right today…"

"Hsssh," he soothed her, much as he would a frightened nestling. "Stay here, perhaps clean up a bit—you know a wash usually improves your spirits—and I'll go fetch you something to eat. Then I will proceed to indulge you in every way imaginable until you slip into peaceful sleep, where I will watch over you and then pine for you until you come back in a week. I may drop in," he warned teasingly. "Objections?"

"None at all," Keisha replied in a much better frame of mind for his cajolery. "One suggestion, though."

"And that is…?"

There was a significant pause.

"Could I have some _chava_?" She asked hopefully. He laughed, his long brown hair sliding across his shoulders as he chortled, hiding his relief at her uplifted spirits: depression was thoroughly unlike her. 

"You can have whatever you desire, love, because you deserve it," he said, and rose to fulfill his promises.

They had an altogether satisfying night of it, the only mar being the shadow cast over the evening by the knowledge that they were going to be separated (albeit by a short distance and for a short time) in the morning.

They made the best of the situation that they could, giving themselves up to loving as totally as possible.

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 3

~~~~~~~~~

Geez, I wrote for all that time and barely got a page?!?!? What a gyp… : ) R/R, please! 

And thanks to Ola for reminding me gently that as a Healer Keisha does have powers, and that it would probably be a good idea to mention it when she uses them. Well, in the second chapter when Keisha examined her mother's arms, assume that she "looked" at them with her magic, too… after all, to treat a problem you have to know what's causing the problem. Just bear with me and assume that this is so foreign an affliction to Keisha that she doesn't want to go about Healing everyone with magic because if it came back in deadly force and she wasn't around—or if she was sparing her energy, for the reasons in this chapter--well then, where would she be? With a bunch of dead neighbors. Thanks for the quick eyes, and I'll change that chapter to reflect this info sometime. Not now, thoush—too late… YAWN

--Alara


	4. Mist

====================

Amy: this one goes to you, for noticing my chapter titles…(Hint: read 'em all in a row when this fic is finished.) 

VERY cheerfully Really, people, it's the little things that matter the most. even more so Give your ma a hug today! muse shakes self, tells self sternly: No, you are NOT going all maudlin on me, YOU are going to write. Got it? Self, to muse, meekly: fiiine…

Alara eyes above Geez…If I can successfully argue with my muse—and end in a draw, do I have problems? : )Naaaaahhhh…. 

And thanks to all of those who informed me that _yes_ Keisha is Gifted with MindSpeech… : )

Enjoy. Stuff gets interesting… Suspicions arise.

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 4: Mist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days into her forced, although temporary, exile from the Vale, Keisha knew beyond a doubt why her mother had finagled this long visit out of her: Every time Sidonie 'happened to stop by' she managed to drop some hint about how she'd 'love to see one of her girls a bride before she died,' or some such. Also, Keisha had never _met _so many apparently careless or clumsy young-men-who-just-_happened_-to-be-quite-handsome-as-well. Every day, at least three would come limping to her door with some idiotic and patently contrived injury or illness. Then the entire time they were there, they slowed Keisha's attempts to help them by trying to stare soulfully into her eyes, or compliment her on her looks ("Why, Keisha, you're as lovely as a fresh flowerbud!"), or about how, as a Healer, someday she'd make someone a fine wife—no problems with birthing or children's sicknesses or a husband's aches after a long day's toil. Keisha gritted her teeth behind a semblance of a smile and tended to them, giving them the worst-tasting palliatives she could concoct and generally striving to make it known that she Was Not Interested. At all. 

Unfortunately, no one seemed to pick up on her hints.

Finally, she cornered one young man, named Felener, who had managed to get mud under the bandage that covered the gash on his hand. Ostensibly, his mother had been concerned about her son contracting an infection in the midst of the busy season and had therefore sent him to Keisha's care. It was the third time this week it had happened, so she was not much convinced of his 'honesty': "Really, Keisha, the pig got out again, and I had to chase him!"

While his back was turned, she quickly scooped up her garden shears and brought the tip to just under his chin. He turned back, and his eyes widened satisfactorily. "K-Keisha?" He asked nervously. "Something w-wrong?"

"Would you _please _tell me why every young man in the village has suddenly decided I'm good marriage-bait?" She said tightly, with no preamble.

"Uh—" his eyes darted to the doorway, as though seeking help. None came.

"You _know_, Felener, and you'd better tell me. Now." She was adamant that she get the truth.

"Per'aps it'd be better to speak with your mother?"

Her eyes narrowed. _I should have known Mother'd set something like this up… _"And just why do you suddenly suggest asking my mother? Why shouldn't I ask you?" she demanded. 

"B-because she's just passed by the window." The nervous man stuttered, gesturing at the doorway. 

Quickly, Keisha dropped the shears into the convenient, large pocket on the front of the work-smock she wore, and said smoothly to Felener as her mother sailed in the door without so much as knocking, "Now, please keep that cut clean. I don't wish to see you for at least a week. All right?" She demanded, pleasantness neatly covering the steel he surely heard behind her words. Gratefully, he scrambled out the door, tossing a hasty "Thank you, Keisha!" behind him as he fled. 

Her mother eyed his retreating back speculatively for a moment before turning to her daughter, who was busily tidying up the workspace. 

"That was rather rude of him," she commented. "You said you wished to examine the rash… I do believe it's faded a bit." Sidonie said, hitching herself up on to the tall stool Keisha kept handy. Then, she returned to what was apparently the subject at hand. Not that Keisha had noticed. "Still, seeing a healthy young man like that makes one think that if only you could find a good provi—"

"Mother, I know what you are up to, and I will not stand for it." Keisha interrupted, turning with a jar of slave in her hands. Despite her heated words, her hands were gentle with Sidonie's arm.

"Up to?" Sidonie repeated innocently. "What could I be up to?"

"Hmm… Let me think… Setting me up with a young man, for one!"

"But, Keisha, daughter, I just want to see you happy—"

"I _am_ happy, with what I do and where I am" _most of the time_ "and who I'm with."

Sidonie gave her a 'knowing' look. "Now, Keisha, you really don't expect me to believe that, do you? _No_ young woman could be happy without someone to care for her, to provide for her."

Keisha sighed: they'd had this conversation before, and Sidonie simply would not believe that Keisha was entirely independent and self-sufficient as she was. "mother—"

"All right, I admit it: I have been sending young men your way. But please Keisha, if you could just meet this nice boy—"

"No."

"Keisha. Please. All I ask is that you come and eat dinner with your father and me and some guests tonight." She lifted a hand to stall the forthcoming protest." I know you have a lot to do, and I know you do not wish to meet a young man right now, but I really think—"

"No!"

Predictably, her mother lost her temper. "Keisha Alder! You _are_ coming to dinner at _our home_ tonight, and you will meet young Brenn, and you will be pleasant to him. You needn't like him, but you must be civil. Do I make myself clear?"

"Mother, I do not want—"

"What you want is not at question here. You are acting like a spoiled brat. Do you realize that his parents could greatly improve trade here in Errold's Grove? They are quite influential in traders' circles, and being in their good graces when they move into the area could ensure that your father and I would not need to beg for handouts in our old age. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"Of course not, mother, but I—"

"If you do not come, you will ruin all of that for us." Her mother paused expectantly. Keisha lowered her head to hide the bitter expression that crossed her face. 

"Fine, I'll be there."

"In a dress. A nice dress. And cleaned up." Sidonie stipulated.

"Yes, yes, all of that. On one condition."

"what?"

"You quit throwing young men my way."

"Very well, but you can't hold me accountable if some keep coming around. Some are genuinely interested in you or a potential wife, you know."

Wisely, Keisha changed the subject. "Here, let me see that arm…"

******

_Back in the Vale…_

"I don't know, Mereen. I just miss Keisha. I'm not used to her being away for so long anymore." Darian replied to the _hertasi, _who was questioning him about his sad mood.

The _hertasi _opened his mouth, as though about to say something, then shook his scaly head, apparently deciding not to speak. Darian, who was helping him mend _dyheli _tack, noticed anyway. "Mereen? What is it?"

"Everything is…all right…between you and Keisha, is it not?"

_What an odd question. _"Of course it is. Why do you ask?"__

"No reason in particular." He replied quickly, which was the obvious indication that there _was_ a reason behind the question.

"What have you heard? Come now, out with it, Mereen."

"No, I don not wish to upset you, Dar'ian."

"Tell me. I promise I won't get upset." Darian smiled. _After all, how horrible could it be?_

"Well, you know how rumors spread…"

His interest was definitely peaked. "You usually ignore rumors," he pointed out. "So, what's this about Keisha and I having troubles?"  
"Persistent rumors are more often slight variations on the truth." He prevaricated. At Darian's look hen continued hurriedly, "Well… It is said that she has left you for another." Mereen spoke quickly, as though that would make the words hurt less.

"What? You must have heard wrong." Somehow, Darian could still smile, though this seemed to be his worst fear come true: he was always afraid that Keisha would grow tired of his constant absences and attention to Kuari, grow tired of the fact that he was too exhausted for anything other than sleep some nights as a result of heavy magic use…In fewer words, grow tired of _him._

__"The rumors say that many young men flock around her in the village, and they gave specific information that she is actually sharing a meal with one of them tonight: That is a step in courtship for humans, is it not?" He cocked his head questioningly.

"Yes, sometimes," Darian replied absently. _Keisha wouldn't eat with someone else… and if we were having troubles and she wished to be freed of my—companionship—she would forthrightly tell me, wouldn't she?_

__"I think I'll pay Keisha a visit. I promised her I would, anyway. No, Mereen, I am not angry. I just wish to speak with her briefly."

Twenty minutes later, Darian was astride one of the younger bucks who was eager to get out of the Vale vicinities. He brought nothing save a travel-pack with him; in it were some ration/emergency food, a spare change of clothing and a rainy-weather cloak. He figured that it was all he needed. 

As he neared Errold's Grove, he noticed in the distance two figures walking side by side along the river in the purple twilight. The young woman, he noticed idly, looked an awful lot like Keisha: same hair, same general height, same general build.... But she would be in her workshop by this time, wouldn't she? _Unless the rumors were true…No, they _weren't. He told himself. He stopped the dyheli in the "backyard" of Keisha's cottage, his onetime home with Justyn_. _He strode up the garden path and tapped on the door. No answer. 

"Keisha?" He called softly. Still no answer. "Keisha, _ashke,_ it's Darian. May I come in?" he asked in the liquid syllables of the Tayledras language, so that even if she could not discern his actual words, she would still know it was he. But there was still no answer, and after a moment he tried the door. Locked, another barrier. He began to wonder if perhaps he had angered her somehow…

Swiftly, he sidled over to the side wall, where a window opened into the loft where Keisha slept. Silently as an owl, he crept up the stone wall of the cottage until his eyes peered over the edge. Still no Keisha. _Well I hope she doesn't mind my coming in,_ he mentally shrugged, and entered the window. 

He was surprised to find that it was dark inside—Keisha was, unaccountably, out. _Perhaps an emergency came up. I shall just have to wait._

It was not too much longer, however, when he heard her familiar footstep hurry up the dirt path. He looked up from the book he was perusing to see her enter, tears trembling in her eyes. She seemed to be fighting back _sobs._ Rapidly, Darian crossed the room to fold her in his arms, much concerned. She jumped, frightened at his touch. "Darian?" She quavered past her tears.

"Keisha, what's—"

"I need you." She cut him off, sliding her arms around him and hanging on desperately. "Please. I need you to love me, to make me feel loved, to hold me, to keep me safe—"

"_Ashke_, what has happened?" He asked her, distressed. 

"Dinner with my parents. Among other things." She said, and lost her composure altogether, crumbling into his arms limply, crying, hot tears trickling down her face miserably. "Please, just… be with me." She requested softly. "I can promise, we won't be interrupted tonight: my mother has promised me a good night's rest." She put her hand over his mouth to stop his stating that making love was hardly conducive to sleeping. "_You _would be more restful to my soul than sleep." She whispered. "Please." She gently joined her mind to his, and he felt the sincerity in her plea, as well as—something else, but as her lips met his, all else except her fled his mind while he carried her up to the loft-bed.

_ _

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 4

~~~~~~~~~

Read/Review, please. All suggestions for this fic or "Fics You'd Like To See" are welcome… email:alara@celtic-fan.com

--Alara


	5. Splint'ring Ice

====================

I "upped" the rating on this story because of this part—I decided to err on the side of caution, because I wasn't sure and would appreciate it if some of you would give feedback saying whether an "r" rating is too excessive and a "pg13" would be fine, or if you think an "r" rating appropriate… thanks.

Just a bit of a note to herald talia: Y'know, if you decide to kill me over a cliffhanger, you're never gonna get the rest of the story. So for your sake (see how magnanimous I am?) I'm glad you settled on gnashing your teeth instead. : )

I apologize to any Sidonie and Ayver fans—but literary license-taking was necessary for the story. : ) IOW, they are _very_ different from the characters portrayed in the books.

And now you really find out why I put angst as a secondary category…

WARNING: Anyone with a weak stomach, or anyone who does not like reading of intentional physical cruelty from one person to another, DO NOT READ THIS BIT. Also, anyone who has a problem dealing with child abuse dealt out be the parents, do not read further. 

Nothing is what I could consider graphic, but leaving the details to the imagination may make it worse for you..or not. Depends on the individual.

In other words, it gets cuttingly cruel and a tiny bit bloody in this part. You've been warned…

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5: Splint'ring Ice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Early in the morning after the dinner with Brenn Trajalm and his parents, Sidonie Alder woke. Something was bothering her, nebulous in her still wine-muddled head. Slowly, as though it were a sponge soaking up water, bits and pieces of the thought came to her. _Keisha… and Brenn… his parents asked…asked, what did they ask…Am I remembering correctly? Did they ask for him to be permitted to suit her?_ Her amazement was so profound, that she rolled over and shook her husband's shoulder, intent on hearing from him that it really had happened: their last unwed child who was still at home—Shandi didn't count, as a Herald she was taken care of—would finally be married! Of course, Keisha would undoubtedly raise a great fuss and be intractable. She, Sidonie, would simply have to make sure that the Trajalms never heard about it until after the wedding. _Now…a fall wedding would be nice. Would a courtship of only a month and a half be long enough? This is hardly the Court at Haven, after all…And after she's tasted the delights of the marriage-bed, I'm sure Keisha's qualms will be washed away…_

__"Wha'…what is it, woman?" This from an irritated and undoubtedly headachy Ayver as he woke somewhat. "Well?"

"It it true? Did Brenn really ask permission to court Keisha as his wife last night?"

Ayver blinked, sleep clearing somewhat from his eyes. "Huh," he grunted. "Guess you're right. He did, and we said yes. Well, that's one more problem-making child off of our hands." He turned back over. "Yep…" he muttered, already falling back asleep. "'Specially as a healer, we ought t'get a good bride-price for her…" The rest of his speech was drowned in snores. Sidonie could hardly contain herself. _Keisha was to be married. _She'd go over right now, to tell her daughter the news and begin preparations.

As she walked down the dusty paths toward Keisha's cottage/workshop, a neighbor waved, already cheerily about the task of making the day's bread. 

"Why up so early, Sidonie?" She asked, wheat flour streaking her face.

"Ah, Etta, such news! Not to be spread about, of course," Sidonie hushed her voice, as though afraid the chickens would hear. "I can hardly contain myself: Keisha is to be married!"

"Oh, what marvelous news! That girl ought to settle down, like a proper maid." Etta said approvingly. "I take it she hasn't heard, then. Of course not—the young ones are always the last to know, aren't they?" She chuckled. "Sidonie. How happy you must be! Is the lad a likely one?"

"Son of Nelpta and Greilg Trajalm." The proud mother announced. Obligingly, Etta gasped in awe. But not for he reasons Sidonie supposed, which was revealed through Etta's next words.

"You're not giving that sweet girl over to him, are you?"

"Why not? Is there any good reason?" Sidonie asked, more sharply than she had intended. Reluctantly, Etta replied.

"Well…Nothing based in fact, but rumors—"

"Rumors. Pfft. And do you believe every rumor that flies by your ears? What about the one that was going around a few months back about Neri Potts? The one about her cousin? Did you believe that?"

"Well, no—no one of _her_ good family would do such a thing as they said, but–" 

"And what is it that 'they' are saying about young Brenn?" Sidonie demanded indignantly. "What that they can prove is true and not just say, 'Well, we don't know what kind of a family they are.'"

"Nothing—that they can prove." Etta admitted reluctantly. "But, Sidonie, surely since the rumors are so constant—"

"They must be true?" She finished scornfully. "Come now, Etta, if he were all that bad, I would know. A mother can sense things like that, you know. And he is the one for my Keisha, I know it. Now, you just do your best to dispel these rumors and save my daughter from and shame, all right? Good day." Sidonie finished briskly, and set off in the direction of Keisha's cottage once more, firmly setting all thoughts except her daughter's wedding._ Fall. Definitely fall—a good time for a wedding, with all the omens of good harvest and such_.She decided.

Finally having arrived at the door, she was surprised to see it closed: usually, Keisha was up and about by dawn, preparing whatever it was that village Healers seemed always to be working on. She shrugged and tapped at the door. No response. She knocked a bit harder, and still received no reply. Frowning, Sidonie Alder set her mind to the problem of breaking into her daughter's workshop without being too obvious about it.

*****_Several hours earlier_

Keisha dozed on Darian's bare chest, her ear pressed to the steady, soothing beat of his heart. It almost drove out the mental image she had of Brenn… Involuntarily, she shuddered at the thought of _him._ Surely, his visage would haunt her dreams…

Really, what he had said—and done—was not so very bad, if she looked at it objectively. But for some reason, being near him made her skin crawl, and she just wanted to be _away _from him, as soon as possible. In the midst of their polite conversation, he had suddenly kissed her, if that was what one would call the excuse for tonguing the inside of her mouth. She had promptly shoved him away—or tried to. His arms were like bands of steel about her, and for a moment, she simply could not move, could barely struggle in his arms. When she managed to gain some space between the two of them, she was fully aware that it was only because he allowed her to. That was what frightened her: the sudden, complete control over her, against which she was all but powerless. 

Then, unexpectedly, his touch had become gentle, considerate almost. She had relaxed minutely, thinking that he had merely been caught up in the heat of the moment—not that she'd noticed the moment was even warming—and regretted his unthinking action. Then he had slipped his arm about hers, a hint of his strength, and said softly, lover-like, "You will make me a fine wife." Automatically, she had flippantly responded, "No. I'm not interested in marrying right now, especially not someone I've just met." His hand had tightened, vise-like, on her wrist, grinding the bones together painfully, and repeated, "You _will_ make me a fine wife. Understood?" She had begun to reply, affronted, "No!" when his free hand had lifted suddenly and tapped her head. Before she fell unconscious, some part of her mind noted that it was perfectly placed on her skull to render her insensible without requiring enough force to leave so much as a bruise. Then blackness had claimed her.

A short while later, she had come to, lying by the river bank. Brenn had stood over her, a satisfied smile stretching across his face. Then, as he noticed that she was awake, he leaned down and gripped her chin in a crushing grip. "If you tell _anyone_ about this, if you even try to sully my reputation, I promise you that your parents will unfortunately commit mutual suicide when their trading avenues unexpectedly dry up." She sensed the cold truth behind his words and, terrified, nodded wildly, her only thought that of escape. "Good." He uttered, and strode away, leaving her to realize that her body ached abominably, her muscles felt abused, and she had no idea what he had done to her. She feared that he had…but no, that was impossible… certain muscles would be aching if he had. Wouldn't they?She suspected that he had done—something, but she wasn't quite sure what. Rape, for some reason, was already not an option in her mind. She didn't know why, though… She had started to shake from fear-reaction then, animal instinct telling her that she needed to be somewhere safe, _now, _and that Brenn was horrifyingly strong. No—powerful. The kind of power that one tried not to cross at any cost. To the very core of her being, she was shaken, demoralized, petrified to the point of insensibility by him. He hadn't needed her promise—she had the idea that she would find it physically impossible to articulate her feelings about him, that her mind might think the words, but her mouth simply would not utter them, as though saying or MindSpeaking the fear aloud would make it worse, give him more power over her. With an almost drugged feeling, running on instinct alone, she had somehow found the way to her own door, and actually wept with relief to find that, somehow, Darian was waiting for her, just when she needed him most. Damnably, she found that she still could not speak, even after she had calmed down considerably. 

"Keisha, please. Tell me what's upset you so." Darian requested softly.

"I can't." She said truthfully.

"I won't get angry—"

"I just can't." She repeated and hoped he'd leave it at that. 

Mercifully, he did. He signed resignedly, kissed her, said, "Let's try to get some sleep tonight," and lay back down. Grateful for his control over his curiosity and concern, Keisha curled up beside his warmth. Unconsciously, he nudged her closer and wrapped himself comfortingly around her form as he slipped further into sleep.

For a long time, Keisha could only stare at the slanting ceiling. Then, finally, she too found oblivion a scant few hours before dawn.

*****

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was in fact barely half of one, Sidonie succeeded in forcing the back door open. The frame of the door now boasted a new crack that needed to be repaired, but she was in. Concerned when she did not see her daughter up and about, Sidonie dared to call softly, "Keisha?" As before, there was no response. In the utter quiet of the small building, Sidonie could detect the soft sounds of someone breathing, deeply asleep. She looked around, perplexed. Where could Keisha be? There simply was no place for her to be sleeping and still be out of sight. 

Just then, her roving eyes fell upon the ladder that led to the loft. Of course! Keisha must have been exhausted from all of the excitement last night, and surely had lain awake for hours. She'd just creep up and see that Keisha was woken at least somewhat: it was unseemly for anyone to lie abed late when that person was not ill. 

Gingerly, Sidonie slowly climbed the ladder, not quite trusting in its sturdiness. Finally, she attained the loft floor, and turned—

To see her daughter entangled in her bed with a large person who was quite definitely male. And quite definitely, neither had a stitch on. 

"Keisha Alder!" She exclaimed, outraged and embarrassed at once. "What in the Havens are you playing at? Get out of that bed at once!"

At the first shout, Keisha and the young—_man_—startled awake, clutching at each other and the bedding, blinking and staring about confusedly. Their eyes fell on Sidonie at the same time. The naggingly familiar-looking young man's (or_ was _he young? His hair was going to white, she saw) expression changed to one of chagrin, while Keisha's was an odd mixture of defiance and resignment. _He_ leaned out to retrieve his discarded breeches and pull them on beneath the sheltering blankets, while Keisha retrieved a (fortunately long) tunic and pulled it over her head. Within a moment, both were—well—if not decently dressed, at least no longer _in_decent. Both opened their mouths at the same time. 

"Mistress Alder, I can expl—"

"I know quite well what you were doing, young man, and I'll thank you to _never _come near my daughter again." Sidonie said, the very air chilling as she regarded this—this—corrupting influence on her child. "If you speak, Keisha, I swear I will cut out your tongue." She continued in the same tone as her daughter opened her mouth. She closed it without saying a word. "Now, you _Hawkbrother,"_ she spat out the word, "I'll thank you if none of _your kind_ ever, and I mean _ever_, have anything whatsoever to do with my daughter again. She is to be married before the week is out" plans of a leisurely fall wedding fleeing her mind, she ignored the gasp of shock from Keisha and the gasp of betrayal from the man "and will have no reason to converse or otherwise traffic with her in any way. Do I make myself clear?"

"But, Mother, the Tayledras Healers—"

"Will get along fine without you, daughter." Sidonie addressed the shocked-looking young(?) man again. "Do I have your understanding on this issue?" He was stony-faced as he replied, holding back some unidentifiable emotion.

"Yes, ma'am. I think we all understand" he glared at Keisha "what '_can't be said_' " this almost mockingly thrown at Keisha, who flinched "all too well." With that, he snatched up his shirt and boots, gave Keisha a glare that should surely have turned her to ash on the spot, and left. 

Keisha, pale and trembling, sank to the floor. "What have you done?" she asked forlornly. "Oh, Mother, what have you done to me?"

"I've saved your future and all _one _of your prospects." Sidonie informed her, fury edging each word. Silently, Keisha began to cry, shaking her head, tears running unchecked down her cheeks like a hot rain as she huddled on the floor. Somehow, this only incensed Sidonie further. "You won't cry until I give you something to cry _about_, girl." She said sharply, and grabbed her roughly by the hair, shoving her toward the ladder. "Get down." Numbly, Keisha did as she was told. When Sidonie joined her on solid ground, she regarded her offspring for a moment, then slapped her callously across the face. "You," she informed her coldly, "are no better than a rutting bitch in heat. As such, I will treat you accordingly. Give me your hands." Eyes blank, Keisha's hands lifted as though with a mind of their own. A flicker of awareness came into her eyes only after Sidonie had tightly bound them together and then to one of the hooks that protruded from the support beams. Ordinarily, Keisha used these hooks for drying herbs from. Her mother had quite a different intention for it today. Keisha's eyes widened when she found she could not free herself from neither the fetters nor the hook. Vainly, she tried to twist around to see—

Only to find that her mother, who was as strong as any man from years of hard farm-work, was removing a leather strap from the wall, intended for harness repair. 

As the leather began to whistle through the air and pain ate like acid down her thinly-clad back, Keisha strived to focus her mind on figuring out how she would explain her impending marriage to Darian when she couldn't speak to him and when he would never believe that she had not known. His parting words were proof enough of his mistrust.

Vainly, she struggled to bespeak him with her mind, only to find that where once her MindVoice had been accepted—nay, welcomed, there now was only an echoing emptiness and unbearable loneliness.

Silently, Keisha bowed her head and cried…cried for herself.

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 5

~~~~~~~~~

ducks stuff undoubtedly being hurled at her head Phew! Ok, here's hoping I didn't depress _too_ many people…. Also that I don't upset too many. If I did, I'd like to hear it so I may improve… If I didn't, I'd like to hear that too. 

If you don't want to post, my email is: alara@celtic-fan.com

BTW, would you all like a _much_ lighter, more comedic version of this story after this one is done? (or maybe during?) Because I had several ways in which I could write a story that fits that mini-summary; dark, light, middling, etc… suggestions?

--Alara (who is desperately praying that she doesn't offend too many people, 

and that she won't be ostracized for writing about such unfortunately dark sides of some humans)


	6. Snow and Hail

Apologies for the long delay in updating… my 'puter hates me, sometimes…

OK, make that… "I _thought_ I upped the rating, but something went weird…" Ah, t'heck with it…

Hmm…Did anyone else pick up on the bit of unintentional irony in the reviews? : ) "child of _shadows_" said the chapter was dark, and asked if I could make it lighter… That just struck me as deliciously ironic! No, it's all right, CoS, I appreciate your review—I just thought that to be highly amusing…

And thanks aem, for letting me know that you think I have the characters on the mark… that sort of thing is really very helpful to me! Any comments on that score, anyone? 

Ok, I'll quite babbling now—to the fic!

Tons happens here…

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 6: Snow and Hail

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snowfire tapped at his adoptive younger brother's _ekele _door. There was no reply. Mentally, he asked his bondbird, Hweel, if Kuari and Darian were within. The eagle-owl twisted his head comically about, nearly upside-down, a sign of much confusion. _:Featherless 'Sib inside, and _not _inside.: _He finally sent, a wash of that confusion attached to the words. "And Kuari?" _:In tree. Inside hurts for Featherless 'Sib. Can't help his hurt.: _"Dar'ian?" he asked. He heard a sound like someone had moved within, and then, suddenly, the door opened—a mere crack.

"What do you want." The younger man said dully.

"May I come in?" Snowfire asked, stepping toward the doorway.

"No." The door began to close.

"Well, too bad, younger brother, I'm coming in anyway." Snowfire replied, shoving his shoulder against the door, which admitted him easily. Inside, it was dark—nearly all the light came from the open doorway. 

It had been three days since his Wingbrother had come into the Vale, blackly furious and utterly unable to even speak civilly with anyone, a state no one had ever seen him in before. He had retreated to his _ekele, _and no one had seen him since. Which was probably a fairly good thing, because Darian looked terrible. Deep circles hollowed his eyes, which were bloodshot, his skin was an ill ashen gray, and his long hair tangled and knotted. Most telling to Snowfire, however, were the tear-tracks that lined his face like grooves carved into marble. The last time Snowfire had seen Darian show so much evidence of weeping was when he had first realized that his old mage-tutor, Justyn, had sacrificed himself to save Errold's Grove from pillaging northern barbarians. Darian had watched him die, engulfed in mage-wrought flames, and for a time, all the young boy could do was block out the memory during the day and wake at night, sobbing and screaming from his nightmares.

"Little brother, what's wrong?" Snowfire asked quietly.

"Nothing."

_:Is it Keisha?: _Snowfire Mindspoke him, knowing that if Darian decided to respond in a like manner, it would be impossible to lie to him. Fortunately, Darian _did _reply using Mindspeech.

_:Yes.: _he sighed. _:Unfortunately, yes.:_

_:Tell me what's wrong, please. Let me help you.:_

There was a terrible, heavy pause. _:She's in love:_

_:Wellthat's obvious,: _Snowfire replied, wondering why Keisha's apparent and much-exhibited devotion to Darian would be a problem for him.

Darian's head shot up from the table where he had been sitting, collapsed. "You _knew?"_ he cried, voice thick and hoarse from tears. "How could you _know _and not _tell _me?" The pain was evident in his voice as he muttered brokenly, "Now twice betrayed!"

"What?" Snowfire asked aloud, startled out of Mindspeech from the picture he was beginning to assemble from Darian's behavior and nonsensical words. "You don't mean to tell me she's fallen in love _with someone else?"_ He shook his head, decorative beads and feathers clicking softly. "Dar'ian, that _can't _be right. You must have heard incorrectly. Keisha worships you! Everyone knows that!"

"Everyone but _her_." Darian returned glumly, slumping in his chair again, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. Or trying to--they got stuck at the knots. "I was—with her, last night. At her workshop. She came in, and began sobbing the second she laid eyes on me. When I tried to ask her what was wrong, she told me that she '_couldn't_ tell me' what had upset her so. In the morning, her mother, er—well—" 

"Walked in on you?"

Darian's shoulders slumped. "Exactly. _Then_ she told me that Keisha was to be—to be _married _at week's end to someone who isn't a—a Hawkbrother, who isn't 'one of my kind'. Probably some idiotic village boy," he sneered contemptuously. "Snowfire, Keisha stood there and did nothing! She didn't try to explain or apologize or anything!" Darian's visage darkened visibly. "She was just _using _me until she got her nice, safe, acceptable village boy to marry her and support her for the rest of her days. Never mind about that idiot Darian who didn't realize—" Darian's voice broke. "Didn't realize that his-his love was not returned…" He trailed off into heartwracking sobs. 

Snowfire shook his head incomprehensibly. This couldn't possibly be true! Keisha…with someone who was _not_ Darian? Impossible! He voiced the thought. "Impossible! I have seen true and untrue lovers, Darian, and Keisha is one of the true ones! Come, we'll go to her, you and I, and straighten this whole mess out. I'm certain that it's all just been a huge miscommunication…" Snowfire continued to try and bolster Darian's flagging spirits while he helped his brother clean up to meet his lover.

*****

Sidonie looked upon her daughter with ill-disguised contempt as she laced her into the light-colored gown Sidonie had chosen for this afternoon's wedding. The girl had been absolutely _moping _since that disgraceful scene the other morning, and was obstinately _refusing _to simply accept her future, like any well-brought up girl ought. Eventually, Sidonie had had to forcibly pour nearly a gallon of specially doctored tea down the girl's throat to get her to be tractable at all. The recipe was an old family one, often used in cases of headstrong children like Keisha. The potent herbs in the mixture induced obedience and docility in the partaker, and often acted as a mild depressant that kept the person from moving too quickly, or in any way that was not ponderous or deliberate and slow.Even now, Keisha was glassy-eyed, stupored by the amount of tea in her system. Curse her Healing Gift, though! The tea took longer to work than it should have, and seemed to not work for as long as it was supposed to. Fortunately, the girl was quickly becoming dependent on it, which would quickly cancel out the adverse effects of the Gift. 

"Now, Keisha, don't you make a lovely summer bride!" Sidonie exclaimed, turning her daughter to look in the expensive mirror on the wall. 

Stupidly, the girl nodded, and replied, her words slurred, "L'ks nice, Mo'er." Then, rather whinily, she asked, "C'n hav' mor' teee?" Her voice cracked and soared on "tea." 

Sidonie smiled in satisfaction as she poured Keisha another brimful mug of the deep amber liquid. "Now, drink it all down…_That's _a good girl." She said as Keisha polished off the "refreshment" in seconds. "Now, come along Keisha, it's time to be married."

Keisha's dim eyes brightened a bit at that. "Mmmmmmarrrrrried-d-d…" she drawled. "Tha's—tha's _good_, righ'?" 

"Yes, that's very good. And you're going to be a good girl and do everything your mother and your new husband say, right?"

A slight look of doubt crossed the young woman's face, her brow puckering as she began to shake her head from side to side. Sidonie swiftly placed another serving of tea into her hands. Keisha sipped at it, then gulped it down eagerly. "Now," Sidonie repeated, "you'll do everything I tell you, right?"

Keisha nodded vigorously, awareness fading from her eyes and an apparently ecstatic smile crossed her face as the drugs entered her becoming-addicted system. "Righ'!"

*****

Darian and Snowfire crept into Keisha's garden. Moving silently as only Hawkbrothers could, they crept up to the open back door. 

Cautiously, Snowfire poked his head around the doorway to peer inside. "Keisha?" He straightened and stepped inside the darkened room. "She's not here." 

"Keisha?" Darian entered, and sighed when he saw the room's vacant state. 

"Where would she be?" Snowfire mused aloud.

"I know," Darian said bleakly.

"Really? Where?" Snowfire asked, looking around. _Maybe we can get this sorted out today..._

Darian gestured despondently at the window. "Getting married."

From the window, one had a nearly clear view of the small town square. The beaming village priest stood in front of an embracing couple as other villagers whistled, cheered, and threw flower petals. The rain of flowers was cleared momentarily by a gust of wind—long enough for Snowfire and Darian to see that beyond a doubt, the bride was Keisha. A slightly dazed look was on her face, with a broad enough smile to make it seem as though she were deliriously happy on the most joyous day of her life. 

_Then again, maybe not._ Snowfire thought. What he said aloud, however, was, "Come on. Let's go."

"Where?" Darian said bleakly, depression visibly sagging his shoulders as he watched the couple kiss, to the loud applause of the congregated villagers.

"First, to _see_ where Keisha and her—husband—" _that sounds too strange, when the husband is not Dar'ian_ "live, and find out where we have to go later to talk to her. Then, little brother," Snowfire slung his arm about Darian's neck "we are going to get you to sleep. You'll do yourself and Keisha no good if you collapse from exhaustion. And no magic until this thing is sorted out—an overtired, overwrought mage is a great danger."

The pair of Tayledras disappeared into the forest, leaving the wildly celebrating village behind them.

*****_Later that evening_

Finally having got Darian passed-out drunk, and deeply asleep (or unconscious; it didn't matter much which) Snowfire returned stealthily to Errold's Grove to try to rectify this unusual and unforeseen situation.

He crept up to the brightly lit window of Keisha's parents' home. He peeked inside. Good. Sidonie and Ayver were alone, exactly as he wanted it: few witnesses for the confrontation that would surely take place shortly. As Darian's beloved, he looked upon Keisha as a sort of auxiliary younger sister, and was fiercely protective of her if she needed it. Which, in his estimation, she did, because her behavior (or what he had heard others tell him of her behavior) was about as un-Keisha like as it was possible to be. Not for a moment did he believe that she had gone along with this farce of a marriage ceremony willingly. If Darian were not so close to the situation and so certain lately that the "too-wonderful-for-me" Keisha would find fault with him and leave him, he, too, would see the absurdity of thinking she'd fallen in love with anyone else.

_Especially not some newcome village lad! Keisha's got more good sense than to waste herself of some worthless lout…Her parents _have_ to know what the real story is._

_And I am going to find out. Now._

__Suiting action to thoughts, Snowfire swiftly levered himself up and into the house via the conveniently open window. 

*****

Sidonie was contentedly working an embroidery pattern, when she glanced, suddenly nervous, up at the darkened window. _Tch. You're getting paranoid in your old age, Sidonie, _she chided herself, and went back to her needlework. Then, suddenly, a man appeared in the window.She stifled a shriek at the sight of this strange, large, frightening—_Hawkbrother?_entering her house so easily.

She was even more startled when smooth, barely accented Valdemaran came out of his mouth. "You are Keisha Alder's mother? And father?" he asked, looking from one to the other. Shocked, they could only nod.

"And you have forcibly sold her off into a slave-marriage this day, is that correct?" He asked, almost pleasantly.

"What? No!" Sidonie drew herself up in affront, as Ayver stood and said defensively, "And what concern is she of yours? _You're _not that Hawkbrother boy she was with, are you?"

"No, I'm not." "No, _he's _not the one." Snowfire and Sidonie said simultaneously. "I am his…guardian, for lack of a better word." The Tayledras continued. 

"Ah! Come to make restitution on his behalf, have you?" Ayver exclaimed triumphantly. "Well, it'll cost you quite a bit—that was our daughter's _good_ reputation he was dealing with. Before he _sullied_ it with his hands and lips and--" 

"I'm not here to 'make restitution'." Snowfire announced. Keisha's parents gaped at him in surprise.

"Well, what are you doing here, then? Come to take your turn on your brotherhoods' personal _whore_?" Sidonie asked snidely. The sour look on her face erased at the sight of Snowfire's furious glare. 

"You keep your foul tongue off of Keisha," he warned, "or I can promise you, you won't like the results." He straightened. "Now. Where can I find Keisha and that brat-boy she is probably refusing to call husband?"

"'Refusing to call husband'?" Sidonie mocked him. "Why, she practically dragged _him_ to the priest! You think we'd force our daughter into a marriage she didn't like?" Sidonie sounded shocked at the very idea. 

Doubt crept into Snowfire's voice. _By the Goddess, if I was this wrong about Keisha, it's a good thing she left Darian—if she's such a—a double-crossing minx! _"You mean she didn't have to be forced or coerced into this marriage." He asked, voice flat with disbelief.

"You can go to their home and voyeurize if that will prove it to you." Ayver said, with a careless wave of his hand. "They're on the old farmstead a mile out of town. The one with the orchard."

"My thanks for your…assistance." Snowfire said politely, and disappeared as quickly as he'd entered. 

*****_At Brenn's farmstead_

Keisha awoke from her light doze, and shook her head muzzily. The dim room swam before her watering eyes, and seemed to treble in her vision. Shaking her head only made things worse. She could tell she was prone, presumably on a bed, only because the ceiling was above her—or was that a wall…? Dimly, she was aware of a craving for…something. But what? She simply couldn't remember…For that matter, it was quite an effort to think at all. Lazily, she allowed her head to loll to the side. Her doubling and quadrupling eyesight fell upon an inviting-looking pitcher just out of arm's reach, the outside dewy with chill. Suddenly, her body made it known that it wanted what was in that pitcher, now, and never mind what her brain had to say about it. She made a desperate lurch for the pitcher's handle and nearly tumbled off of the bed, when a strong arm caught her.

"Now, none of that. Here, I'll get that for you." A low, somewhat menacing voice said. It sent an involuntary shiver of animal fear up her back; now why was that? Her head ached so much…

A bare arm entered her sight, followed by a bare shoulder, a bare torso, all in a sickly pale, fleshy layer of fat that rolled just under the pasty-green surface of his skin in a sickening motion. She turned her eyes quickly away, a faint panic beginning to well up inside of her. Something was wrong with this situation. What? Her mind began to move less sluggishly, striving to hold on to a thought for more than a fragment of a second…

The arm's round twin slithered suddenly beneath her—_bared? _shoulders, lifting her up so that she was propped up against the man, whose other arm was offering a cup of that deep-amber colored substance that her body was shouting for. Her hands seemed to stretch greedily at the cup of their own accord. He let her have the cup, and she gulped the cold tea down in one long swallow. "More?" She thrust the cup at hem beseechingly. He smiled tolerantly, his round face looking uncannily toadlike, and removed the cup from a grip that was already going slack as the drugs coursed through her system. Turning, he filled the cup again, giving Keisha an unwelcome view of his bare posterior as it turned toward her. Some idle part of her mind noted the neatly folded clothing on the floor. She recognized one pile as her own; the other must be his—

Her thoughts stopped rambling as he turned back, cup in hand. Just before her reaching fingers grasped it, he swiftly set it on a nearby table, leaning in at the same time to bring his lips to meet hers. Keisha frowned against the kiss, not returning it, but not pushing him away, either. Something was wrong with this, too…but what? What was it her lethargic mind was missing?

His other hand now freed of the encumbrance of the cup, his cooled fingertips slid across her skin, trailing from her navel upward, over the sensitive skin of a breast, over her shoulder, the hand now sliding down the skin of her back as his lips moved lower, to her throat, his other hand holding the back of her head, and now the first arm was tugging her down beneath him and his hot, sweaty skin came into startling contact with hers, and _what was wrong with this, what was wrong with this, **what was so fearfully wrong with this?!?**_

****Suddenly, it came to her: it should be another man with whom she did these things, not this one!

"No." She articulated, the word falling from her slackened lips. 

Slowly, he stilled, and lifted his mouth from the hollow of her throat. "What?" He said, in a rage-choked voice.

"Stop—y're not righ'." Keisha felt her body caving in to the effects of the drug, even as her mind furiously rebelled.

"What, wife?" He spoke sharply. "Who is more right for you than your husband? Who better to take you in this bed, in our home?" The fury was building in his voice. "Will you defy me even now, whore?" He spat at her. "Well, there are no laws about how to make a wife obey her husband as she's sworn to—"

"I ne'er swor' t'tha'!"

He continued, his voice rising to a shout. "And I will discipline you as I see fit, be it with my body or my belt!"

The drug-haze was so thick that she never saw the blow coming, nor the next after that. Keisha could only cower and whimper as painful strike after strike rained down upon her head and shoulders and anywhere else he could reach as he knelt above and on top of her. His eyes glittered oddly, his breath coming in short pants the more bruised she became, and finally, when she was teetering on the edge of the blessed abyss of unconsciousness, she became aware of him entering her forcefully, tender flesh tearing like spider-silk beneath his onslaught, other abused muscles aching and bruising and bleeding.

The sudden knowledge that if she remained aware for a moment longer she would go insane shoved her past that keen edge, and Keisha thankfully fell into the abyss of oblivion.

*****_A short while before, outside Brenn's farmstead_

__Snowfire crept through the underbrush that was so scarce in these farmlands. How to get close to the house, without alerting those within to his presence? As he pondered the question, a hand suddenly came to rest on his shoulder from behind. He stifled a squawk of surprise and spun, hands and knife ready to defend himself.

It was Darian. He relaxed minutely. "What are you doing here?" He asked in a soft whisper.

"I have to get her out of there, away from him, Snowfire." The young man looked half-crazed and desperate. "She _can't _love him—I won't believe it until I hear it from her myself and hear the sincerity in her words." He paused, then continued, his intense gaze holding Snowfire's. "And… I had a disturbing dream about her…and him. He's evil, Snowfire. I've never met the man, but somehow I'm certain of it. In my dream he was a demon-dog come out of the blackest shadows, tearing Keisha and me apart. Money and riches fell on him as he ripped her to pieces, and he laughed while he did it! Such a laugh as no one has ever heard, so disgustingly _joy-filled _at her pain—"

"All right, all right," Snowfire waved him to silence, ignoring the wave of dread that crawled up his skin at Darian's words. "Spare me the gruesome details. We'll go up and look—and only look—to see if Keisha is all right. If she is, we wait until he goes to sleep or 'til tomorrow sometime when she is alone, and we talk to her. No more."

"And if she—_isn't _all right?" A slight tremble betrayed Darian's real fear at that thought.

"We avenge her, Tayledras fashion." Snowfire returned grimly.

With a nod, they began creeping up to the dimly lit house, vanishing into shadows like shadows themselves.

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 6

~~~~~~~~~

Well…. I really have nothing to say, except read and review, please!  
Oh, tell me, did I take you by surprise in letting Keisha and Brenn marry, or no?: )

Apologies for offenses.

--Alara


	7. Seeping, Soothing

OoooKkkkkk… loooooong time no update, I know

OoooKkkkkk… loooooong time no update, I know. ducks various flying vegetable objects My only excuse is that I had finals and graduations to go to and singing to do and weddings to help plan, so… spreads hands Sorry. That's about all I can say. Please do continue reading and reviewing, tho! Your support is muchly appreciated, even if this one poor author does not always show it by writing!

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 7:Seeping, soothing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darian and Snowfire crept stealthily up to the high windowsill of Brenn's farmhouse. Dim, reddish light, as from a banked fire, spilled over the sill like water, dribbling across the dirt yard. Snowfire motioned for Darian to remain still, and to give him a boost. Slowly, balancing on Darian's interlocked hands, he raised himself so that he could just barely see into the widow. When he crouched down again to confer with his wingbrother, his face was stonily still. 

"What? What is it? What did you see?" Darian whispered urgently.

A regretful look passed over Snowfire's face. "Wingsib, I am sorry, but…"

"But?"

"I saw… He was…" Snowfire groped for words that would not shatter Darian's already fragile state of mind. Finally, he settled on gentle bluntness. "He was…finishing with her, and—I'm so sorry—she did not… seem to be resisting."

Darian's face went pale; his eyes widened. "No," he whispered, as to himself. "It can_not be." Suddenly, his head snapped up sharply to Snowfire's face. "Let me see."_

"Darian—" Snowfire began.

"No, please. Let me see. I know her better than anyone else alive," Darian said fervently. "I will be able to tell, truly, if she is or was resisting. Please." The base begging tone in his voice reluctantly decided Snowfire. 

"All right," he sighed. "But please, remain quiet. Your crying out would only make the situation worse." Personally, he simply couldn't believe what his eyes had seen, and prayed to all the gods he'd ever heard of that Darian saw something wrong.

As Snowfire had before him, Darian raised himself up to see over the windowsill. He looked for a moment. Then his entire body stiffened in utter, consuming rage that Snowfire could sense rolling from him like some kind of unholy fog. 

Darian dropped to the ground beside him. "She was resisting, but she's unconscious now," he stated.

Snowfire gripped his arm, hard. "Are you certain?"

"Beside her ear is a line of blood that seeps into the pillow beneath her," Darian stated, nearly emotionlessly, disallowing himself the relief of fury at his beloved's mistreatment. "It almost looks like a shadow—which is probably what you took it for—but is just a bit too dark and deep colored to be a shadow." He paused, and a bit of the old Darian could be seen keening his sorrow and fury through his eyes as he looked beseechingly at Snowfire. "What do we do now?"

"First, we make certain we're well-armed. Then we find a way in. Then—"

"We take revenge on the bastard." Darian finished, grim and vicious at the same time.

Snowfire smiled tersely in reply.

Then the two Tayledras warriors melted into the shadows, using their darkness as cloaks to hide their vengeance-seeking forms as they sought swift, death-dealing arms to save Keisha.

*****_In Brenn's farmstead_

Keisha moaned. Her entire body hurt, from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet. She couldn't seem to get one eye open, and her head ached horribly, as did her thighs…

Her mind wisely shied away from following that particular thought, seeking instead the more general memories of what had happened to put her into such a state. An image of flailing fists entered her mind, and left it just as quickly, fleeting as a butterfly. A roiling nausea ate at her stomach as her nose registered the presence of spilled, drying blood, mixed with other fluids best left unnamed. With difficulty, Keisha turned her aching neck to look at the warm mass that lay half beside, half on top of her. Brenn. Curiously, the identification awoke no response in her, other than a heaving of her guts that told her _do not think, do not think, get away, get away, **get away.**_

With some difficulty, she pulled her left leg and arm from beneath Brenn's bulk, and hissed as blood flowed back into the weight-numbed limbs. The Healer part of her noted the sluggishly bleeding, raised welts on both appendages, and noted also how the blood was drying into filthy scabs already over her wounds, and reminded her that she should wash and dress them before too long.

The more exhausted, brain-dead portion of her wearily told her Healer-self to shut up and leave her alone while she concentrated on the more pressing need of obeying her animal fear-flight instinct.

Slowly, Keisha eased her feet on to the cool wooden-plank floor, and nearly collapsed when pain shot up her leg as she tried to put her weight upon it. She bit back the yelp of pain that rose involuntarily to her lips. _Fine, I'll crawl instead… If I could see straight, it would help… _Still somewhat mind-muddled from the interfering influence of the drugged cider, her body moved sluggishly; her vision kept doubling, and her depth perception was askew, making crawling—or any movement—difficult in the extreme. Absently, she brushed a hand across her sweating forehead, only to find that the warm moisture was her own blood, oozing from a large, broken bump on her head… it felt as though she'd been hit with a block of wood, or something similar. Unbidden, an image of _the bedstead coming up to crack across her forehead as her hair was gripped strongly from behind as her head was slammed into the hard edge again and again and again…_ Keisha blinked hard, pushing the—_memory!? I _can't _remember… _back to wherever it had some from, resolutely setting her mind to the problem of reaching the door, which wavered sickeningly in her sight. Methodically, she placed her right hand flat on the floor in front of her and pulled herself forward a few inches. Then the left. Right. Left. The slow movement became almost hypnotic, lulling her drug-soaked brain; she jumped, startled, when her hand hit the doorframe instead of more wooden floor. Numbly, she stared up at the door. The handle was…just…out…of…reach… She leaned more heavily against the wall and stretched her arm up, deadened fingers obstinately refusing to connect with the handle that was now _near _her grasp—but kept moving aside from where her eyes said it was. Finally, she shut her eyes to the confusing images, and scrabbled at the door, vainly trying to find that elusive handle by touch alone. _Have to get out…_Fear tore at her nerves as her ears registered the faint sounds of Brenn moving in the bed that she had vacated. An deep instinct told her that she did not want to be in this room for any longer, and certainly not after _he_ woke up. _At last!_ Her fingers connected with the handle, her hand falling upon it heavily. The door creaked open, an opening into deep darkness that would swallow her whole, keep her safe…

A faint shadow fell across her eyes: Brenn. Her heart pounded in fear, and she whimpered, animallike, half-crouched to run, half-cowering away from him. _If only I could remember—_why _am I so frightened of him?_

__"Well, well, well…" Brenn said ponderously. "And where are we going, wife?" His voice was dangerously, deceptively soft. He moved closer to her, bent to hear her answer; the trousers he had pulled on brushed her still-bare body. Unconsciously she pulled back from even that contact.

_Wife?! I'm not his wife, I can't be, I love…another…oh, why can't I _remember _anything?_ "Outside." She said simply. _Wasn't that obvious enough?_

__"And what were you going to do outside?" He asked, voice pleasant.

"Go."

"Go where?" His voice tightened.

"I—I don't know." Keisha replied honestly. "I don't remember."

His fist crashed against her face. "You lying bitch! You were going to _him,_ weren't you?" he demanded, ignoring her surprised cry of pain as she was knocked back into the wall.

"Going to who?" Keisha asked, dazed, as her eyesight went awry again.

"Planning to cuckold me the first day of our marriage, weren't you?" he yelled, face red with fury, ignoring her question. "Make Brenn look like the perfect idiot, weren't you?" He bent and physically picked her up by the shoulders, his hands digging painfully deep into the muscles of her shoulders and back. "Weren't—you, —you—conniving—bitch?" Each word was punctuated by a violent shake that left her head spinning as it snapped sharply backwards with each movement. Abruptly he dropped her roughly to the ground and lifted his hand to strike her again. "Well, you know what? He's not going to come" _Who?_ Keisha wanted to ask him, "and you belong to me now, to do whatever I wish with."

"Not while I'm alive," a new, male voice said: a voice that made Keisha's heart leap.

"What—?" Brenn uttered, startled, as he turned around.

In the casement of the window stood a dark-clothed figure, tall, well muscled—and armed with a crossbow that was aimed straight at Brenn. Other mysterious figures slipped in the room behind Brenn through the partially open door, and held equally painful and dangerous weapons at the ready.

Brenn, predictably, did not notice these other newcomers and said scoffingly, "So, you've come to take your bitch back to slaver at your feet? Well, you can try, but I promise you, you will lose your life if you try to steal what is rightfully _mine."_

"Keisha belongs to no one, save herself," The man at the window said, dropping lightly down into the room. His voice continued to unceasingly thrill Keisha. "And if it's a question of who will lose his life, I suggest you glance behind you before you make any rash statements."

Brenn snorted. "Look behind me, when you've got a crossbow aimed at me? I'm not stupid, _boy_," he said insultingly to the man, who was of course Darian, although Keisha still could not remember much. She did remember his voice, however, and she could remember that voice saying sweet things to her in warm darkness, while strong arms cradled her…

Brenn then continued in a lofty and supposedly-knowledgeable tone, "And don't you know the law? A woman belongs to her husband, and becomes his property when they marry. Therefore, if you even lay a hand on her, I'll have you arrested for stealing."

"And I could even more easily have you arrested for rape, and abuse, and a number of other crimes," Darian returned. "And your claim that Keisha _belongs _to you won't hold up in Errold's Grove—or Valdemar, for that matter. I don't know where you're from, but that law was abolished decades ago."

"You're just saying that so I'll give her up easily. It won't work, though!" Brenn reached down behind him, grasping for Keisha. She scuttled away from him, hiding willingly behind the legs of the strangers who stepped forward to protect her. At least, she figured that that was what they were doing…

When his hand did not encounter her as he expected, Brenn was startled into glancing behind him. He absolutely froze at the sight of the well-armed men and women behind him, eight in all. But his visage darkened in fury when he saw Keisha literally on their side. Forgetting his danger, forgetting everything but his rage that his unwilling wife should thwart him thus, he lunged at Keisha—

And slowly toppled forward, two crossbow bolts in his back, a dagger in his throat, and two sword-slices across his midsection. Blood spilled from his slack mouth, his sightless eyes staring eerily through the floor.

Darian crossed the room in a few strides, heedlessly slinging his crossbow in the general direction of Snowfire, who barely caught it before it hit the wall or floor. When he reached Keisha, she shrank back for a moment. "Keisha…" he breathed sorrowfully, tears filling his eyes at the damage to her body. "Oh, Keisha, _ke'chara_, what did he do to you?" His anguish at her pain was all too apparent, and before her initial resistance could solidify, Keisha found herself wrapped tightly in his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin as he rocked her back and forth. She clung to him gratefully as stress trembles overtook her body, shuddered against him in revulsion at the violence she had suffered and the strain she had been other. Too, the drugs were yet in her system, and her vision was still none too steady, although if that were a result of the beating, the drugged cider, or both, she could not tell.

And she found that she could not cry.

Mutely, she allowed 'him'—she could still not remember much of anything—to give her wounds a cursory wash, and to dress her in clothing she vaguely recognized as her own. She was half-drowsing by the time he swung up onto the back of a _dyheli _with her in his arms, and was nearly asleep by the time they reached a quiet, green place.

The burst of activity that their entrance engendered did not even rouse her.

And she still couldn't quite cry. 

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 7

~~~~~~~~~

Hope you all enjoy, and I _am_ working on Ch 8! 

Is anyone interested in a lighter, much more comedic version of this story? Different plotline, etc, same basic premise…

Alara


	8. ...And Unsoothing Waters

====================

Well… not much to say, besides 'here's the next chapter,' and, 'please review!'. 

So…

Here's the next chapter…

Please read and review!

Oh, wait. I thought of something else to say: This is a rather short chapter, just getting caught up on how our starring duo feels and what they think about all of this…

Enjoy!

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 8:…And Unsoothing Waters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darian sighed silently to himself as he watched Keisha sleep fitfully, tossing and turning, crying out at times, sobbing at others, curling in upon herself, cowering for the next blow that her mind told her was coming. 

It had been a week since he and the rest of the _Tayledras_ scouts had brought her back from that hellhole… His fists tightened simply thinking about what that… that… utter _beast_ had done to Keisha. A punctured lung, two fractured bones in her wrist, a plethora of bruises that made her look like she'd been trampled upon by a herd of horses, cuts and scrapes all over, a concussion, brain-bruising… In addition, it had taken three days for her eyesight to return to normal, even with the help of _Tayledras_ Healer-Mage Firesong, who had arrived the day after Keisha had been brought back and had been utterly horrified and furiously angered when he saw the wreck that had been made of his young Healer-friend. Only learning that the perpetrator was thoroughly _dead_ appeased him at all. 

All of these injuries faded to naught when compared to the effect the drugging, enforced marriage, rape and abuse had had on her mind. Even now, the only people she could bear to have within arm's reach were Firesong, Snowfire, Nightwind, and , thankfully, Darian.

Darian sighed silently again, and let the cloth covering the doorway fall softly back in place as he turned and trudged, disheartened, along the dirt paths of the Vale, thoughts full of Keisha and how he couldn't seem to help her. Certainly, he could comfort her, calm her from her nightmares, but he couldn't give her her memories back, which _were _returning—but _very _slowly. Nor could he give her back the lightheartedness that used to live in her eyes. Nor could her utter trust in the inherent goodness of people be regained. 

The MindHealers, such as they were, informed him that he could do nothing more than what he was doing, comforting her when she needed it, leaving her to be at peace when she requested it, and simple _being there_ at any time. It was frustrating as hell, though, seeing his beloved, his _ke'chara,_ his Keisha in such pain and being utterly unable to _do _anything about it.

_Damn it, I'm a Masterclass mage, with power to do just about anything—except help the one I love! Ah, to see Keisha be herself again, I would give—I would give _anything! _My power, my life, even…_ Tears began to well up as his throat closed over, choking off the words he longed to scream to the sky: _Please! Anything! _Anything _to heal her! I would swear it by—even by the Goddess, if She would listen!_

__As he thought this, a warm breeze, with a scent reminiscent of the Dhorisha Plains, swept by him from out of the still evening. 

Somehow, thought it seemed no more than a quiet zephyr, that faint breeze seemed to fill his flagging spirit with badly-needed strength. Getting control of his emotions, he took a deep breath, then another. Odd, but that simple action served to both help him calm down and clarify his thoughts.

"Well, first things first," he muttered to himself. "Keisha _is _Healing, so far as she is able to at this time, and is sufficiently sound in mind that she _will _ask for me if she needs me. And I don't wish to smother her with attention she may resent later—the _last _thing I want is for her to resent me! So, what can I do now?" He stopped. "What _can_ I do now?" He asked himself again, quizzically. 

Mereen appeared from nowhere, a pile of clothing in his hands—or, rather, claws. "'What can you do?'" He repeated to Darian. "Here. Busy yourself with mending these—they are your clothes, after all. While you're taking your mind off of Keisha, which will be good for you, you need the mental rest, you may as well be useful." The _hertasi_ chirruped, dumping the pile abruptly into Darian's hands, complete with a small basket of mending supplies: needles, threads, extra clasps and buttons.

As suddenly as he had appeared, Mereen vanished, doubtless attending to a thousand other pressing tasks. 

Darian was left blinking after him, his arms full of sun-scented clothing. With a shrug, he deposited the pile on a nearby rock conveniently shaped as a comfortable chair. "I suppose I may as well be useful," he said aloud to no one, and began to mend not only the torn clothing, but the tattered remains of his inner peace and his heart, as well.

_*****Darian's ekele_

Keisha slowly came fully awake for the first time since her rescue from—from _his _house. _Brenn_. She resolutely steeled herself for the expected flash of pain at even thinking his name… but none came. 

"Heyla, little sister; awake at last?" Friendly silver eyes winked down at her from behind a mask. Slowly, her sluggish brain supplied a name to go with the mask. _Firesong._

"H'lo, Firesong." She greeted him quietly. "Where 'm I?" She yawned, as he gently helped her to sit up against the headboard of the bed she lay in. "How long have I been here?"

The steely eyes caught hers, concern in their depths. "Don't you know where you are?" Inwardly, he was thinking, _Gods, please, after all that, don't let her have lost bits of her memory to that scum, as well!_

Keisha's gaze traveled slowly across the room. Recognition flickered. "Oh. I should have guessed… I'm in Darian's _ekele_." 

Firesong let his breath out a silent prayer of thanks: she didn't _seem_ to have lost any memory; questioning her later would tell for sure. "You've been semiconscious for four days, and totally unconscious for three days before that," He said in reply to her second query. 

Weakly, she caught his hand. "Firesong…Healer to Healer… how badly hurt am I now?"

He noticed that she did not ask, 'How badly hurt _was_ I,' but left it alone. "Well, it's a _damned_ good thing that you have such a strong Healing Gift, yourself," he informed her frankly, "or I'm afraid that even with my best efforts, you'd have been badly scarred, perhaps disfigured from shattered and bent bones. Now, however, all you'll carry away on your body is a few slight scars that will fade, given time, and perhaps a tendency to aching in your left wrist when you get much older." He said, with pardonable pride at his own Healing skill. "Right now, you are recovering from a punctured lung, fractured bones in your left wrist, a concussion, and some brain-bruising. Speaking of which, how is your eyesight?"

"My eyesight?" Keisha blinked, several times, somewhat startled at the abrupt question. "Fine, I suppose. I don't notice anything wrong…" Her voice trailed off as she invoked Healing OverSight and Looked at herself. "And I can't See anything wrong with it, either." She finished, knowing he would hear the emphasis on 'See.' 

"Well and good, then. Well and good." Firesong said, obviously pleased. "Do you feel up to eating, and perhaps standing after a bit? You _know _you need to get moving again…"

Keisha groaned. "A hearty yes to the food: I actually have an appetite; and yes, I _know_ I have to move. But it doesn't mean I have to like it!"

Firesong laughed as he backed out the doorway. "Yes, but think of the learning experience: now you know how it feels to be a patient!"

She chuckled as he left her alone, leaving behind quiet to invade her thoughts. Odd, that the thought of Brenn did not evoke a rage in her, as she should have thought would occur. It seemed that while she was unconscious, she—or something else—had sealed off those memories, and set them at a remove from her emotions: the thought of Brenn evoked only disgust and relatively mild anger. He was dead, anyway, after all; there certainly wasn't 'more complete revenge' or anything that she could get _now_. 

As she mused upon this oddity—that her mind should have somehow Healed itself, or been Healed, while she slept, she almost didn't notice the large, winged shape that waddled in the door, awkward on its legs.

"Kuari!" She exclaimed in surprise. "Is Darian coming, then?" 

The owl merely chucked at her in response, clicking his beak together. He paused then, and fixed her with a percipient gaze at odds with his form. _:Keisha's thoughts better, not scary:_ He Sent suddenly, startling her. _:Good. Nesting with Dar'ian soon?:_

Keisha was startled again, this time into a laugh at the creature's audacity.

Just at that moment, Darian himself entered, glancing about, first darting a _look _at Kuari; then his gaze warmed infinitesimally as it lighted on Keisha.

"Keisha, _ke'chara_, you're awake!"

"So I noticed." She replied then, smiling brilliantly at him. "And where have you been?"

"Mending clothes, at Mereen's behest," he replied wryly, holding up hands punctured from a needle. 

"Poor Hawkbrother-mage, can't even get his clothes sewn without getting hurt," she teased him gently, taking his large hands in hers and _tch_ing mockingly over his injured fingers. She clasped them in her own, and looked up at him. "Help me to stand, please." At his dubious look, she added, "Firesong said to begin walking—"

"Yes, Firesong _did_ say that," The Healer-Adept said, as he walked back in, a steaming tray in his hands, "but if you'll recall, he said to do so _after_ you've eaten. I trust Wingbrother Dar'ian can see to it that you eat first." He smiled knowingly as he set the tray down and exited the room, leaving the two of them alone again.

They looked at one another, suddenly awkward. The silence was broken when Kuari hooted softly from the perch Darian had lifted him to, and bespoke the pair simultaneously. _:Eating now, _then _nesting? Nesting good, builds a strong nest, safe nest, loving nest.:_

They both laughed, once again one in their laughter. 

"I couldn't agree more." Keisha replied impudently.

Darian smiled, shouting in exultation inwardly: Keisha was back!

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 8

~~~~~~~~~

Hope you liked, another couple of chapters yet to go… but they should be short ones, tying up loose ends. _Should_ be.

Slan!

Alara


	9. All Are One

OK, I did say 'should be' short chapters, didn't I

Sooooo sorry about the month-long delay in updating, but I'm afraid I hit a bit of writers' block. Then I had to go back and re-write this chapter, because I want it to be 'right'—if you know what I mean. _Then_ fanfiction.net wouldn't let me get to the login page… Argh! 

And here's a question to prove that I _am _ignorant of some things, some internet abbreviations among them: what does 'OOC' stand for?

Your reviews helped break my writers' block—see, fanfic writers really _do_ _need_ reviews in order to write! Please, keep them coming.

On to the long-awaited (by me, too!) chapter:

That confrontation you've been asking for is coming up, soon…

**====================**

**Sundered Souls **

**====================**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 9:All are one

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been several days since Keisha's awakening. She was slowly getting re-acclimated to things like walking, and living in the peace and comfort of the Vale, without the stress of others' dependence weighing upon her. Just that morning, she had woken in the pearly pre-dawn light beside Darian, and a thought had appeared in her mind. It was not a new thought, but that morning, in the cool clean air, with her love beside her, the thought had rung truer than ever before, resonating like the quiet chime of a silver bell in her heart: _This is truly my home, where I am meant to be. _Oh, she wasn't about to forsake Errold's Grove completely; she would, of course, offer her Healing services—but only when they were desperately needed. It was no different from the pact that Darian had with the villagers: his services as a mage were at their disposal, but only when the village truly needed it.

Over the past few days, Keisha had also been trying to intentionally allow others to accidentally brush her as they passed by. Ever since awakening, the only person's touch with which she was _completely _at ease was, unsurprisingly, Darian's. Her involuntary tensing and twitching at others' casual touches, meant only to be friendly or comforting, bothered her deeply: She _knew_ none of the _Tayledras_ would ever harm her. She hid her instinctive fear as best she could, though, and hoped that those who did notice her flinching would understand. 

Thankfully, events had been quiet lately: no enormous emergencies had occurred, nor very many small emergencies, for that matter. Keisha was grateful for the reprieve, knowing that living in the Pelagirs was usually quite an eventful experience. 

*****

The quietude was driving Darian crazy, however. Not normally an inactive man, he was not used to having so little to do. If Keisha would let him, he'd gladly spend all of his free time with her, but he sensed that she still valued solitude for at least part of the day. The fact that no-one from the village had come storming up, inquiring loudly about Brenn's death bothered him. The fact that no-one from the village had come for 'their' Healer bothered him even more: the entire situation felt like a thunderhead at the cusp of breaking into storm—tense energy compacted into a small area, waiting for something to strike at.

Right now, he was sitting by the lake shore, sunning with Kelvren, trying to resist the impulse to go check on Keisha and make certain that she was all right.

"Do not undersssstannnnddd…" He heard Kel mutter to himself. He rolled over onto his stomach, looking up at his be-winged, be-taloned friend.

"What don't you understand, Kel?" He yawned; despite his anxiety, the warm sun and pleasant zephyrs arcing their way across the water were relaxing and calming him, tension easing from his muscles to be laved away by the quietude, like poison leeching from a wound.

"Why would sssomeonnne hurt Keisssha in that manner?" The gryphon asked frankly, his very nature affronted by the type of attack upon Keisha. "Sssshe is valuable, a Healer; ssshe is _your _mate! And thisss _Brenn,_" he spoke the name vehemently, like a foul oath, "he doess—_did_ nottt know you, correct?" As a result of his agitation, his gryphonic accent, normally virtually unnoticeable, was far more pronounced. 

"No, so far as I know, he didn't." Darian answered, puzzled as to what Kelvren was getting at. "In fact, she only met him a few days before his attack on her."

"Then, why attack _Keisssha? S_ssurely, there are far easier—targets—for that kind of harm than ssshe."

Slowly, Darian sat upright. "You know, you're right. You're absolutely right, Kel—there _was_ no reason for him to choose her, other than the fact that she's beautiful, and a wonderful person, and—"

"Aah! Dar'ian, I know how much you admirrre herrr, you do not need to givve me a lissst of her good qualities!" Kel chuckled as he cut Darian's list short. He sobered then as he questioned, "That isss not, however, a sssuffficient reassson for him to have chosssen her forrr his victim."

"No, it's not." Darian agreed, and was about to say more when Mereen darted out of nowhere, obviously much excited—and worried.

"Dar'ian!" He chirruped as soon as he was within hearing distance. "Come! Quickly! There are strangers on their way here from Errold's Grove, and we think they're coming about Keisha!"

Thoughts of Brenn's motives fled to a corner of Darian's mind as he leapt to his feet and bolted from the lakeside, pelting towards his _ekele_, and towards Keisha. 

He burst in the door, startling Keisha, who was sprawled across a chair, reading in the green-filtered light streaming through the leaves outside the window. A soft hoot from outside let him know that Kuari was keeping a watchful eye on her; he, too, was startled by Darian's abrupt entrance. 

"Darian…?" She began to question, as he pulled out more suitable clothes for a confrontation than a pair of old breeches, damp from swimming. Her face paled as she realized the only reason for Darian to be rushing about like this: someone had some about her. She voiced the realization. "They've come asking for me, haven't they." 

Darian glanced up at her, and noticing the whiteness of her face, crossed to her, his shirt forgotten, slung across his arm. He picked up her hands in both of his, and raised them to his face to kiss, saying, "Keisha. I promise you, _no one and nothing _is ever going to take you from me, or me from you. You have my promise on that, on my life."

"No! Not on your life, please; I can't bear the thought of losing you." Keisha replied, her eyes full of tears that did not fall. "Promise instead on our love. That can't die as easily."

"At all," he gently corrected her, and kissed her softly on the lips, still holding her hands.

She sank into his embrace for a moment, and then, as though drawing strength from it, she straightened, all traces of tears gone. 

"Put on your shirt, and let's go; I'm ready to face anything now," she said, smiling a bit tremulously, but smiling nonetheless.

_*****At the Vale's entrance_

Not only were Keisha's parents impatiently waiting, but the nominative leaders of Errold's Grove as well (namely Mayor Lutter and his wife Mandy), Darian's former neighbors. All looked upset; many had confusion mixed into their expressions, as well. Despite himself, Darian felt a chill as he caught a glance of Keisha's parents between the rapidly thinning trees as they approached the group: they looked like beasts who had been thwarted in a kill—angry and vengeful.

He paused before exiting into the clearing, glancing down at the too-quiet woman at his side. He touched her cheek gently, lifting her face to look into her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this? You can go back, if you like," he offered gently. "No one would blame you."

Despite herself, Keisha momentarily lost control of her features, and her face twisted and crumpled into a half-stifled sob. She choked the tears back, and replied, voice raspy, "I have to do this." She took a shaky breath, then another, and continued. "I'd love to back out: The last thing I _ever_ want to do is see them again, but I have to, or they will always have—have control over me. And I don't want anyone to have that sway over me. Not ever again." She said fiercely, looking at him, determination blazing in her eyes. 

He smiled. "Very well. But don't forget—I am here. Always."

She smiled back, all traces of tears gone. "I know." Her visage hardened. "Let's go have a talk with my parents."

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 9

~~~~~~~~~

Heyla! Anyone who wants to read something else by me, go to originals and check out some of my poetry—reviews would be appreciated!

—Alara 


	10. In the End

Argh

Argh. Stupid internet shutting down fanfic.net, or stupid whatever-it-was that shut it down, albeit temporarily… Oh well. Here is the **final installment of Sundered Souls**! (Yes, it's amazing, I finally finished the thing!) 

Enjoy! I am working on a (probably shorter) comedic version of this story…

Please, will _someone _read my poetry? : ) Only one person has so far, and I don't think that she's read this story… sniff feels sad L Just kidding…

On with the story! Hope you like the ending… if not, please! Let me know! If _so_, let me know!

====================

Sundered Souls

====================

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 10: In the End

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they were entering the clearing from an oblique angle, the Errold's Grove inhabitants who were present did not notice them at first, giving Darian and Keisha anopportunity to assess the situation before the inevitable confrontation.

The Lutters, nominative leaders of the Errold's Grove community, had confused expressions on their faces, tinged with the anger that was present in some measure on all of the villagers' visages. The strange, well-dressed couple who Darian took to be the deceased Brenn's parents had tired, mournful looks on their faces, with more anger mixed in. Both were dressed in very expensive, deep black mourning garb, entirely made of different rare and expensive materials and black-on-black embroidery. The outfits were also completely ridiculous and impractical for riding on horseback and trudging through forest brush, both of which had been attempted earlier that day, judging by the state of the hems on their clothing.

Darian knew the instant Keisha's gaze swept across her newly-estranged parents: her breath caught momentarily, her posture stiffened, and her entire manner became for a second that of a hunted animal chased unexpectedly into blinding, blood-freezing light. After a split second, though, she released the breath on a slight sigh, audible only to his ears, and firmed her shoulders, mentally preparing to take her parents by storm, he was sure.

Darian's own sight flicked to Keisha's parents, and he knew at once why meeting their eyes for even a second would unnerve Keisha: their faces were so rage and anger-filled that they hardly looked human. Kuari reported to him that his sharp gaze saw what Darian's own eyes could not: that Ayver's arm, slung so casually about his wife's shoulders, was lined with tension: he was physically restraining her.

Darian's own arm came up around Keisha's shoulders in response, protectively and supportingly. Keisha shot him a look of utter gratitude over her shoulder, and spoke, ensuring that the Errold's Grove people noticed her.

"I heard you have been looking for me." She announced calmly, as though this weren't a tension-filled, anger-brewed fight waiting to break out. "Here I am; what do you have to say to me?"

Predictably, five or six people answered at once. "Your defiler killed our wonderful son—" "You have disgraced this family—" "Someone was murdered and we want justice—" "_I_ don't care about this stuff, I just want our Healer back—" "Any _proper _young woman, especially one with a rank of Healer would—" "Your spread-legged ways have set a horrible example—"

Keisha endured this barrage for about ten seconds, then shouted, "Be _silent_!"

Amazingly, they all shut their mouths and looked at her expectantly, accusingly, sorrowfully, or anxiously, depending on the person.

Keisha took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Darian pressed her shoulder where his hand rested, then let it drop, leaving Keisha standing on her own. "Mayor Lutter," she began almost conversationally, "what do you have to say to me?"

"I want to know what's going on!" The man began, blusteringly. "You're our village Healer, yet you're not here half the time; you meet a nice young man, fall so in love with him that you're married within the week, and the morning after the marriage, he's found dead, you're with those—those Hawkpeople, or whatever they call themselves, and we're short a Healer for two weeks, with no sign of you anywhere—"

Keisha lifted a hand, forestalling any more speech from the obviously overwrought man. "I assure you, if you just stay and listen to what I have to tell these others, I'm sure all your questions will be answered."

"Oh," was all he had to say to that, and he subsided. 

Next, Keisha turned to the Trajalms, Brenn's wealthy trader parents. "My condolences on your loss," she began banally, but was interrupted by Mrs. Trajalm's outburst of "You little harlot! _Our _loss? What about yours? He was your husband! How could you not love and miss our little boy? How could you have had him killed…" She dissolved into maudlin tears on her husband's shoulder.

Keisha's voice abruptly became iron-hard, steel-cold. "_Mrs._ Trajalm, I'm sure that you didn't mean at least some of what you just said because of your current state of mind," she said in a tone that was almost formal, "but to set the record straight once and for all: _I did not love your son. _I did not even like him. I only knew him for a few days before my _enforced marriage_ to him, and during those few days he treated me in such a way as no woman ought to be treated." Her voice was steadily rising as she let some of her well-hidden anger show. "Then he forcibly took me to the marriage-bed, beat me nearly to death at my half-coherent protests, and forced more of the drug upon me that mazed my brain and thoughts so that I could barely breathe. Your son earned his death, that he received at the hand of one who deserved to be his executioner most, excepting myself. Do not waste your weeping and wailing on me, because I think that instead of counting this a loss, you ought to be considering this the death of a leeching parasite that has been sucking you dry for years. I feel only pity for you, because you never even knew it…" Keisha regarded them almost sadly for a moment, then concluded, "Please never contact me again, save if you need my Healing services, and let that only be in a matter of life or death."

Following this speech, the Trajalms could only gape, shocked speechless by this abrupt view of the reality of what their son had been. Murmuring to each other intently, they fell back into the small crowd.

Finally, Keisha turned toward her parents. "Mother. Father." Sidonie began to speak, but again Keisha flung up her hand, cutting her off. "Please, let me speak." She took a shaky breath, wondering where to begin, what to say, with this confrontation so public. She became aware that all eyes—and ears—were trained upon her slight form. She also noticed that besides Darian (who had sidled up beside her again), there were numerous Tayledras standing at a distance around her—supportive, and obviously "on her side" but allowing her to fight her own battle, providing a neat contrast to the Errold's Grove dwellers, who crowded together around Sidonie and Ayver at the opposite side of the clearing. Keisha was not daunted by the sight of so many potential foes across from her, though; she was heartened by the Tayledras' silent and unconditional support of whatever decisions she would make, here and now.

She took another tremulous breath. "Again, as with the Trajalms, I think it necessary that I set out my thoughts, feelings, and actions clearly to you, my …parents," she hesitated over the word "so that there may be no more…misunderstandings from this point on." Darian moved closer to her, a warm, comforting, and strengthening presence. She linked her hand with his, lacing their fingers together, and said, "_This _is the man I love, Mother, Father. He may not be considered a 'proper' man to be a husband of any self-respecting young lady, and he may not meet up to your expectations or hopes, or those of the village, but the point is _he doesn't have to!"_ She spoke intently now, locking her parents' eyes with her own. "The only opinion that really counts in this matter is _mine_, and _I _have chosen this man, Darian Firkin k'Vala k'Valdemar, to be my life-long companion, and nothing you can say or do will make me stop loving him! Furthermore, _you _have no right to attempt to force me to do anything that is against my express wishes, whether you are my parents or not, and whether or not you think you are doing me a service. _I _dictate where my life goes, and _I _make my own decisions now. You will simply have to accept that, because it will not change, not even by beating me or drugging me,_ Mother_," she couldn't help adding bitterly. A spate of speculative murmurs rose from the avidly listening audience at that implication: "I _told _you she wouldn't fall in love that easy," "See? I always said there was something off about those Alders," and so on.

They fell silent at Keisha's next announcement. "I have come to a decision regarding my status as Errold's Grove chief Healer." This quieted the crowd, who waited for her to continue. "I will reside here, in k'Valdemar Vale, with Darian, and will be available to Errold's Grove twice weekly, when I will visit, and of course if some emergency should arise needing my services, I will be there as fast as a dyheli can carry me. _I am not abandoning Errold's Grove;_ rather, I am putting my talents to work where they will be the most use—here, in the Vale. Barring large accidents or strange diseases, my medicines, not me, are what you need most often in the village." The part of the small crowd that was unaffiliated with her parents murmured in vague agreement that this was so, and so this arrangement was acceptable to them. All decisions apparently made and all matters apparently resolved, the villagers began trickling out of the clearing. The Trajalms slowly walked over to where Keisha and Darian stood. Mr. Trajalm bravely met both of their eyes and confessed, "We knew some of what Brenn was up to, and encouraged him to find a wife and settle down, but we didn't know…"

"We blinded ourselves to his true nature," Brenn's mother said, bitterness tinged with sorrow, "and chose to not be suspicious when he asked for a mild sleeping draught and began experimenting with herbs and things… _I_ knew the effect most of those herbs had on people when eaten or drunk, and I knew how powerful they could be, in the proper proportions…." She trailed off. 

"What we mean to say is, we are so deeply sorrowful at what our son did to you." Mr. Trajalm said to Keisha. "We will try to get over our anger at your having to kill him," Brenn's father spoke now to Darian, "but please understand that it will take time."

"Of course," Darian accepted quietly, "and please believe me, if there had been a way to save Keisha without killing Brenn outright, I would have used that means of incapacitating him." They nodded, and took themselves off in the direction of the village.

Sidonie Alder stalked up to Keisha, and drew her aside roughly. Keisha signaled to Darian that it was all right, and Darian relaxed—minutely. Ayver came up to Darian and sized him up. "Huh." He finally grunted. "Well, I s'pose she's made her bed and has to lie in it—so to speak—" He sniffed disdainfully at his daughter's choice, and paced away to wait for his wife, who was apparently giving Keisha an earful. The hard, hurt, angry look had returned to Keisha's face, and to Darian's knowing eye, she was perilously close to tears at whatever her mother was saying to her. Finally, Keisha lifted her head defiantly and said something that made her mother stiffen and raise her hand as though to slap the younger woman. Within a second, Darian was standing menacingly behind Keisha, making it clear what would happen to _anyone_ who hurt her now. Grudgingly, Sidonie backed down, but not after spitting contemptuously at Keisha's feet. "May you enjoy rotting in the lowest hell, you fornicating, sluttish bitch! Remember: _you _are not my daughter!" She then allowed herself to be led away by Ayver, the last Errold's Grove residents to leave. 

The moment they were gone, a trembling Keisha turned her face into Darian's broad chest. She did not cry, though he could sense she was on the cusp.

"Keisha, _ashke_?" He uttered softly.

"They did it." She said. "I've been disowned, no family, no legal last name: Keisha Alder has now never existed." She sounded forlorn, as well she might.

"Hmm." Darian took this piece of information and mulled it over for a moment. "Well, what about Keisha the Healer—she still exists. As does Keisha _l'ke'chara a Dar'ian,_ if you want a new last name."

"_L'ke_-what?" She asked, beginning to smile.

"Keisha, Beloved of Dar'ian," he replied softly, giving his name the Tayledras pronunciation. "Or—" And he stopped.

"Or what?" He did not answer. She slid her hands to his head and pulled down, forcing him to look at her. "Or what?" She repeated insistently.

Apparently from nowhere, a feather appeared in his hand: One of Kuari's, attached to an ornate and beautiful hair-clasp. "Or you could take my name as your own," he whispered intently. "Because you are not family-less; you are not love-less; you are certainly not worth-less. You are my family, my love, the one thing I cherish most in my life; my reason for being, for existing is to love you, to be with you. Keisha, will you delight me for the rest of my life by consenting to accept this feather as a token of my perpetual love for you and you for me, so that all who see it will know that we are truly one? Will you fly with me as my mate, my love?"

Tremblingly, and truly crying now, tears streaking her ecstatic face, Keisha took the clasp from him and worked it into her hair, her hands shaking so badly that it was a true trial to get it seated securely. Then she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed him deeply, communication all of her love and admiration and thankfulness and joy to him in that contact.

"'Will I fly with you'?" She repeated softly. "Can't you tell—"

"What?"

"We're already soaring!"

Darian answered her in the best way possible: the one requiring no words.

~~~~~~~~~

END CH. 10

~~~~~~~~~

_ _

Still waters 

_Rising rivers_

_Waterfalls…_

_Mist_

_Splint'ring ice_

_Snow and hail_

Seeping, soothing 

_And unsoothing waters_

_All are one_

_In the end._

_ _

_~Fin~_

_ _

Well, it's been quite a trip! If you want me to write more, **review**! If you _don't want me to write more, **review**! If you don't know whether you want me to write more or not, **review**! (See a pattern forming here?)_

If you have story ideas but can't quite pen them down, I'm willing to take a crack at them… Or if there's this _one scene that you know would just be wonderful, or that you've just been dying to read "something about how so-and-so does __this, or has __this happen to her/him…" but you're not the writing type, send it on over, I'll do a vignette… Or a story if it catches my imagination…_

My email is:Alara@celtic-fan.com  
if you don't want to post, or you want to send something (like and idea, or a really looooong review) to me…


End file.
